Nave Morte
by AtomicHepCat
Summary: After Don and Betty's 1962 trip to Italy comes to an end, they book passage home aboard the fateful last voyage of the Antonia Graza. Follow their day to day adventures on the luxurious doomed ship from boarding the liner in Italy, to that tragic spring night so long ago.


Betty, aided by Don, stepped from the green taxi and onto the side walk in front of the Italia Line terminal. It was a modern building, but pleasing to gaze upon. The area around the docks was very, very busy, and she had to be careful not to get lost in the hustling crowds pouring in and out of the terminal doors and swarming every which way. It was a tangle of baggage carts, foreign immigrants and local emigrants, a cacophony of alien languages and animal cries. This was the true culture of Italy, not the romance that so many knew, however, her past few nights had been terribly romantic.

She had met Don back in the early 50's right there in Italy. Back then they were two different people; he a lowly copywriter for an advertising agency in Manhattan, and she a lowly model for a fashion company based out of the same city. But he knew her, even before they had met in that little Sicilian village. Before Don wrote copy, he was a fur salesman at a high end store on New York's exclusive and fashionable Park Avenue. The company that Betty modeled for sold furs to Don's company, and she herself had appeared in many fashion plates strategically placed throughout the upper class venue. She was extremely attractive; her Nordic heritage gave her shoulder length blonde hair, and burning sapphire blue eyes. That plus her slender figure made her extremely pleasing to the eye. Don fell in love with her pictures, and when it was offered to him, he eagerly snatched an opportunity to travel to Italy and oversee the shipping of dozens of furs to the Manhattan store. This is where they met, during a photo shooting on a warm Italian summer day. Betty loved the fur she was modeling and wanted to keep it, but the company wouldn't let her. Don asked Betty out, and she declined. Two weeks later, she arrived home to find the fur at her apartment doorstep with a love note from Don attached to the box it came in.

Now, it was 1962 and they were married with two children. Donald Draper was now a partner and the head of copy at the company _he_ had formerly written copy for, and Betty was a lowly housewife with a mind for Republican politics. They both were sailing home from Italy after a week long stay in paradise. The ad agency had recently acquired the Hilton Hotels account, and Don had been sent to Italy to witness Hilton's Italian branch first hand. Their marriage was fading, so as soon as he discovered he was leaving, he invited her along hoping it would reignite whatever had become cold between them.

The porter greeted Don in Italian and began to remove their luggage from the trunk of the cab and onto the baggage cart. Donald looked around him at the swirling faces and tried to spot the doors of the terminal which would lead to the first class boarding area. His search was fruitless, and defeated, he struggled to ask the porter for directions in what little Italian he knew. Luckily for him, Betty's knowledge of the language trumped Don's by a great extent, and after a fluent conversation they were pointed in the right direction.

They stepped onto the escalator arm in arm and ascended to the first class boarding lounge, which was a large room decorated in the new Italian minimalist style. Chrome and black leather chairs were strategically placed atop of the dark red faux marble floor, and black granite columns rose to the ceiling which was adorned by chrome sunburst light fixtures. A wall of windows allowed for natural light to filter into the sleek, elegant space, but it also offered a spectacular view of the liner. Don checked in at the counter, while Betty stood at the glass wall and gazed out onto the ship. She couldn't help but feel a little intimidated and fascinated by the sight before her. The vessel was the flagship of the Italian Line, having been launched in 1957 as a hoped sister to the _Andrea Doria,_ which had unfortunately floundered off the coast of Massachusetts in 1956. She was roughly 600 to 700 feet long, and featured 5 passenger decks. Her hull was painted black and was crowned by a glistening white super structure. Her single funnel was painted white, and it was topped by the colors of the Italian flag.

Betty scanned the ship from stem to stern and back again, and a tingle of excitement ran up her spine. She had read about the grand liner before her in quite a few Italian travel magazines that she had subscribed to back in New York, and by all accounts it was the most elegant and romantic ship afloat. She could cross the Atlantic ocean in four days at full speed, and every day aboard her was paradise. The restaurants aboard her offered the finest cuisine at sea, her galley was staffed by some of the best chefs Italy had to offer, and pampering at a day spa or a hair salon was always an option for any lady wishing to relax for a bit. A games room and smoking room for both sexes were aboard, as well as a bar and a fully stocked library. A playroom for the children had been installed during a refit in late 1960, as well as a soda fountain for the teenagers. Betty thought of her children as she scanned the brochure before her; she knew how much 8 year old Sally and 5 year old Bobby would have loved the playroom.

She felt a strong, rugged hand on her shoulder and looked to see Don next to herself, his arm around her. She gazed into Don's olive green eyes and smiled, linking his arm with hers. The first class boarding call came first in Italian, and then in English. "Ready, Birdie?" said Don as he smiled at his wife. "Yes, I am" she replied. Arm in arm they walked down the sheltered gangway and stepped onto the liner. Instantly, Betty and Don could feel the hum of the ship's powerful engines through their feet and a thrill of anticipation surged through their bodies. "May I see your papers please?" the crew member stationed at the doors asked in Italian. "Of course" replied Don in English. Giving him a smirk, and eying Betty up and down, the crew member took the papers, reviewed them, and handed them to Don. "This is your steward, Paolo, he will show you to your room, A-402. Nodding, they were lead down the narrow corridor to their room, which was decorated in medium toned woods and a dark gold carpet. Brass light sconces adorned the walls, and two twin beds sat side by side separated by a nightstand with a lamp and a telephone on it. Against the wall next to the farthest bed was a vanity between two oval portholes. The wall opposite the beds was more of a room divider than it was a wall. Separating the bed room from the sitting room were two polished sliding doors which could be hidden inside the walls or closed to create two rooms. The sitting room itself had a door to the corridor and was labeled as room A-400. Betty threw her peach pillbox hat onto the bed and plopped onto the couch in the sitting room, as Don reached into his pocket and tipped their steward. "Is there anything you will be needing?" asked Paolo in a heavy Italian accent. "That will be all" responded Don. Nodding, Paolo exited, closing the door behind him leaving the two alone. Don took off his blazer and threw it on his own bed nearest to the door, kicked off his dress shoes, and removed his tie. Betty patted the couch next to her, beckoning for him to sit beside her. He did as she wished, and put his arm around her. He looked into her eyes and felt his heart jump as they twinkled back at him. He pressed his warm lips against hers and they shared a tender embrace together. Pulling his lips away, she smiled her old familiar smile at him and he did the same. "Beautiful flowers..." she said as she motioned to the brass vase on the table in front of them. Leaning forward, she picked the note card from the arrangement and read it to herself: "Welcome aboard the _Antonia Graza_ ".


End file.
